<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Circle in a Spiral by SeeThemFlying</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039381">A Circle in a Spiral</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying'>SeeThemFlying</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Deaf Character, Elisabeth is an adult, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Nietzsche's Eternal Reoccurance and all that jazz, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, explanations of loose narrative threads, history repeats itself over and over again, prompt series, series 3 spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:21:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>A series of one-shots set in the <i>Dark</i> universe.</p><p>Chapter 14: No Future - Magnus tries to persuade Franziska of the merits of freedom...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agnes Nielsen/Doris Tiedemann, Aleksander Tiedemann | Boris Niewald/Regina Tiedemann, Charlotte Doppler/Peter Doppler, Claudia Tiedemann &amp; Jonas Kahnwald, Elisabeth Doppler/Noah | Hanno Tauber, Franziska Doppler/Magnus Nielsen, Hannah Kahnwald/Egon Tiedemann, Hannah Kahnwald/Ulrich Nielsen, Jana Nielsen/Tronte Nielsen, Jonas Kahnwald/Martha Nielsen, Katharina Nielsen/Ulrich Nielsen, Martha Nielsen/Bartosz Tiedemann, Noah | Hanno Tauber &amp; Bartosz Tiedemann, Peter Doppler/Benni Wöller, Tronte Nielsen/Claudia Tiedemann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. His Paradise (Elisabeth/Noah)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Русский available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841344">A Circle in a Spiral</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnyaBantik/pseuds/AnyaBantik">AnyaBantik</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this is my first foray into writing in the Dark fandom. I hope to create a series of little one-shots set in this universe of any characters that float people's boat, but will probably mostly be Elisabeth/Noah, Bartosz/Silja, and Ulrich/Katharina (but willing to write others. If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p><p>PS. Spoilers for Series 3, so watch out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elisabeth watches, transfixed, as he moves through the darkness.</p><p>Twenty-two and dreaming of destiny, for half her life she had known where all these feelings would go; towards Jonas and Adam, towards the end and the beginning, towards... him.</p><p>Her protector. Her saviour. Noah.</p><p>He did not seem to treasure this inevitability, not yet anyway. Whatever the wheel willed, Noah still thought of her as a child, as that little girl he had saved from an intruder in a dingy caravan at the end of the world. Unlike her, Noah had seen time stretched out before him, endless and infinite, and then observed it curled tight in the palm of his hand. He had seen stars be born and then blink out in a moment, men who were yet to be born and already dead crushed by the inevitable, a god and a goddess playing a never-ending game of chess. She could see how it weighed on him, that immovable bulk heavy with the sins he had been forced to commit, but nevertheless she could not help but see past those things; to the man who had wiped away her tears after her father died, to the man who found her food and shelter in this desolate place, to the man who told her that paradise was waiting for them, if only it could be redeemed.</p><p>He is beautiful, in spite of all his faults.</p><p>Given that the wheel wills her love, and that it impossible <em>not </em>to love him, Elisabeth finds herself hiding behind the trees that ring around the lake, holding her breath. Noah has the same routine every night; ever since the water was purified by the contraption Claudia invented, he comes down here to bathe.</p><p>Even though it is wrong, she watches with bated breath.</p><p>Slipping the suspenders off his shoulders, Noah takes the time to just stare out at the lake, watching the moonlight dancing on the water. Elisabeth steals a breath as he begins to unbutton his shirt. She leans forward, entranced, her hand resting on the bark of a tree as she tries to edge closer, to see more of him. When he discards his shirt, Elisabeth is afforded a glimpse of his lithe, muscled back. One day, he will tattoo the Emerald Tablet right there, in order to remind him that everything comes from nothing, but now she can just see the planes of soft, kissable skin criss-crossed with scars. Her throat goes dry.</p><p>As Noah begins to undo his flies, Elisabeth thinks of turning away. She knows it is wrong to watch him like this, to steal tiny pieces of him that don't belong to her. Yet she cannot stop. Although she must love him this way, quietly and in hiding, Elisabeth refuses to put an end to it. So often he had told her about paradise, painting it as a distant blaze of light, but sometimes she wondered if it was here with him, as it had always been. Watching him disrobe, she imagines what it would be like if he stopped seeing her as a little girl, but as a woman; with a woman's heart, a woman's soul, and a woman's body...</p><p>The moonlight casts a shadow across his strong, firm ass once he is finally naked and Elisabeth has to bite her bottom lip in order to keep her excitement at bay. Having never heard the sound of her beloved's voice, Elisabeth has memorised everything else about him. The way his hair sticks to his head in the rain. The visible dark hair chest that she can see when he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. The vibrating hum she can feel beneath his skin when she rests her head against his chest as he speaks. His eyes, blue and beautiful, that she can see all of time in. The taut, thrumming tension that pervades his whole body. He makes her desperate for the type of animalistic pleasure that only seems possible away from Jonas and Claudia and their never ending machinations... and only with him. When she is with him, Elisabeth is a girl in his eyes, but a woman in her own.</p><p>And she wants him. God, she wants him.</p><p>Staring through the leaves of the tree, Elisabeth watches as Noah enters the water, shining bright in the darkness. He splashes some water on his face and she watches as it sluices down his naked form, tracing silver paths along his perfect naked chest. At the sight, she feels her heartbeat thundering towards a crescendo in her ears, in her chest, and between her thighs. Her blood runs hot as she watches him; Noah bobs beneath the water, before coming back up with a gasp, soaking wet. In this light, glowing and glorious, he is an angel. All that is missing are a pair of wings, growing out from that perfect muscled back.</p><p>Compelled like a pilgrim before a shrine, Elisabeth steps forward, unable to resist him anymore.</p><p>He cranes his head to look at her, asking her with an expression why she is here.</p><p><em>I want it, </em>she signs. <em>I want your paradise.</em></p><p>
  <em>Our paradise.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Die Hausfrau (Magnus/Franziska)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At Bartosz and Silja's wedding, Franziska finds herself irritated with Magnus...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for coming back and reading! One thing that disappointed me a little about Season 3, is we were never really given an explanation as to why Magnus and Franziska helped Jonas/Adam back in 1888. This one-shot gives a little context to that decision.</p><p> </p><p>If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silja Krüger and Bartosz Tiedemann's wedding is the event of the year in small town Winden. All the neighbours that Jonas tries to shun are out in force; Herr Wöller from the brewery had offered great casks of beer for free to be drunk at the party, Frau Albers had gifted Silja with some beautiful silk for her wedding gown, and Pastor Jankowski had officiated the ceremony. Everybody thinks it is something to celebrate, Bartosz most of all, as he and Silja are now dancing along to some Ländler played by Herr Obendorf on his accordion, laughing away as if this were a happy occasion.</p><p>Franziska has had enough of the celebration after one cup of beer. Setting her flagon down on a table, she crosses the room, trying to ignore the sheer joy in Bartosz' eyes as he whirls his new wife around the room.</p><p><em>We are meant to be suffering, </em>Franziska thinks, imagining Jonas still locked in the laboratory, trying to get the time machine to work. <em>Not falling in love. We are meant to be longing for home and trying to return there, not settling down and making something new.</em></p><p>She is almost at the door when a hand catches around her wrist, strong and firm and the only piece of her old life she has left. She turns to look at him.</p><p>Magnus.</p><p>It has been easier for him to fit in here. What did he need to change about himself but his clothes? The same is not true for Franziska, though. In 2020, she was allowed to be as headstrong and forthright as she wished, but in 1898 she was expected to be little and meek, an obedient little <em>hausfrau. </em>Once, she had had dreams of being a doctor; she was smart enough and had good grades. Here, she is a ghost, unable to have a job or a life or anything outside the confines of the home. That she chafes against this world is the reason why Franziska has thrown herself into helping Jonas get the time machine to work, and why Bartosz and Magnus have settled and found comfort in 1898. As men, they can <em>live </em>here, while she is in a prison made of cotton and whalebone that Magnus can never see.</p><p>Franziska gazes into his eyes and he tilts his head to one side, questioning.</p><p>"Where are you going?"</p><p>"To bed," she says, irritated. Ever since Bartosz and Silja announced their engagement, Magnus has been refusing to see what it means; that Bartosz is content to remain trapped here now. "I must get up early tomorrow. Jonas has an idea for how we can rewire..."</p><p>Magnus lets out a sigh that instantly makes Franziska shut her mouth. "Can you just forget all that for one night? This is Bartosz's wedding, Franziska, his <em>wedding. </em>Can we think of something other than Jonas and all of time for one night, please?"</p><p>A flash of annoyance passes through Franziska's eyes as she turns away from him, her full skirts which are nothing but an encumbrance billowing out as she moves. She won't argue with him here, not in front of everyone, so she marches out of the assembly hall and away from the bright lights and music.</p><p>Angry, she hungers for the dark, not the light.</p><p>"Franziska, where are you going?" Magnus calls, hurrying out after her.</p><p>She keeps walking, head held high, not wanting him to catch up. Unfortunately, he has much longer legs than her. "I told you, I'm going to bed. We will have an early start tomorrow and Jonas wants to..."</p><p>"I don't care what Jonas wants!" Magnus growls, as he finally reaches her, darting around her so he is standing resolutely in front of her.</p><p>It is dark and they are alone, so Franziska grinds to a halt. Distantly, she can hear the music from the wedding. It makes her see red.</p><p>"That's because you don't care about anything," she bites back, suddenly feeling all the resentment she has felt towards Magnus erupt inside her. When she stares at him angrily, and he wilts like he usually does. "Ten years we've been here, and we are no closer to getting home and you don't even seem bothered!"</p><p>"I thought you hated Winden, I thought you wanted to get out of that shithole!" cries Magnus, remembering all the things she had said when she was an ignorant little girl who knew nothing of the world.</p><p>"I hate <em>this </em>Winden more," she snaps, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. It is strange that even her curls are rebelling against the tight updo she is always forcing them into. "I can't be myself here, I can't be <em>anything </em>here. I can't make my own money or be the master of my destiny, even more so than back in Winden..."</p><p>"I can help you," replies Magnus, trying to make her feel better.</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"Marry me. Things won't be so hard."</p><p>She scoffs, disgusted that he sees so little of what is really going on.</p><p>"If you loved me, Magnus, you wouldn't ask me to marry you," says Franziska, her eyes filling with tears. "You would help me get <em>home."</em></p><p>Magnus shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he is composing himself and trying to find the words. "Where is home? Everything has been destroyed in 2020. Our parents are likely dead, Winden nothing but a burned out husk... why would you want to go back there?"</p><p>Franziska thinks of her sister - all alone but wearing red lipstick - without protection or hope and of her mother and father, estranged but permanently tied to one another. Magnus assumes everyone has died, but that might not be the case. If Jonas was right, there might be a way to rectify all this sadness, to undo the knot and ascend to a place that is better than where they are all now, better than 2020.</p><p>"Because I don't want to be here," she says, the tears finally coming. "And if you loved me Magnus, you would see that..."</p><p>For a few pained seconds, Magnus gazes at her, a mixture of hurt and concern in his eyes. Then before she can say anything, he cups her face with his hands and leans down for a kiss. There is something familiar and warm about him, a sliver of what she once was, so Franziska grips hold of him greedily and kisses him back, pouring all her anger, frustration, and love she has into him, in the hope it will dissipate from her heart. When they break apart, Magnus' words came out in breathless rush.</p><p>"I'll do it."</p><p>Franziska’s eyes widen in shock. "You'll help Jonas?" she replies, surprised, given how reticent Magnus has been to help their erstwhile friend.</p><p>"I'll help Jonas," says Magnus softly, his thumbs gliding along her cheekbones. "For you, Franziska. Only for you."</p><p>She kisses him to seal the deal.</p><p>It is her only way to escape.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving kudos or comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. She Thought of Agnes (Agnes/Doris)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Doris thinks about Agnes...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Annnnndddd, here is the latest one-shot. This is Doris/Agnes, because I would have really liked to know what exactly happened with them. Here is some sort of guess.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doris knew that Egon could sense that something was different in the air; she could see it in the way he did not look at her when he said goodbye before he went to work. Now, he fled, where previously he had lingered in hope of a kiss. Perhaps he knew everything was changed from the way she would play the radio while cooking breakfast in the mornings, or sing to herself in the shower, or even how she would put chocolate in Claudia's lunchbox whenever she could get hold of any. Everywhere Doris went, she dropped little pieces of happiness all over the place, and it was quite unlike her. Egon had surely noticed.</p><p>It was all because of Agnes, of course. Ever since she had entered Doris' house, things had been so much better. She had someone to talk to about the problems of raising a young daughter with a distant husband, about the lack of intimacy she shared with Egon ever since he committed himself more fully to work at the police station, how she missed kissing... <em>really </em>kissing... someone she was in love with.</p><p>She didn't love her husband anymore, after all.</p><p>Agnes raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows in an inviting arch. Doris could not help but hold her breath.</p><p>"I could kiss you, if you want."</p><p>She said it so casually, that for a moment Doris didn't feel as if the prospect was transgressive or thrilling or wrong or brave or everything she had ever wanted. It just felt inevitable.</p><p>"You would want to?" Doris had asked, surprised. She wanted to, but she was a wallflower who never got what she wanted. In contrast, Agnes was a tall growing poppy who never bent for the wind.</p><p>"Oh yes," Agnes had purred, as Doris stared at her ruby red lips. "I've wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you."</p><p>In spite of her sheepish embarrassment and lingering thoughts of Egon, Doris had let Agnes kiss her, and afterwards the two of them had not stopped kissing. When Claudia, Egon, and Tronte were out, they would sneak time together in the master bedroom, or in the bathroom, or once even in the garden. It was a summer of bliss. Claudia and Tronte were happy to spend time out together, while Egon was always working, so Doris and Agnes had time to themselves.</p><p>Doris had Agnes and Agnes had Doris and, for the first time in a very long time, Doris was <em>happy.</em></p><p>Egon eventually noticed.</p><p>"You seem different," he mumbled one night when the moon was high and neither of them could sleep. "Distant almost... but happy."</p><p>Staring at the ceiling, Doris had been busy thinking of Agnes lying in the next room. She knew her lover slept naked, so desperately tried to keep the thought of her warm, kissable skin out of her mind and her heart. It would only consume her.</p><p>"The weather has been beautiful," she said to her husband, as if that explained things.</p><p>"It has," he agreed, resting his hand over his heart. Egon always wore pyjamas to bed. "I was thinking we could go out tomorrow night, just you and me. There's a new restaurant with a terrace that has opened down by the lake that Daniel told me about, and it would be good for us to enjoy the sunlight while it is here."</p><p>That proposal surprised Doris. Egon had never suggested something so romantic.</p><p>"What about Claudia?" Doris said, even though she was thinking <em>what about Agnes? </em>"Who will look after her? Who will...?"</p><p>"She and Tronte can look after themselves," said Egon dismissively, as if thoughts of his daughter were distracting. "And, anyway, Frau Nielsen will be here if they need help. Tronte and Claudia shouldn't prevent us spending some time together, as husband and wife."</p><p><em>Husband and wife.</em> The words felt dead and heavy, shackles around her wrist, but Doris found herself agreeing.</p><p>"That would be nice."</p><p>The following day, Egon left early for work, and Doris came downstairs to find Agnes, Claudia, and Tronte sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast. She caught the former's eye and smiled; to her surprise, there was a shadow behind her lover's gaze.</p><p>Doris was going to ask her what the matter was when Claudia spoke up. "Mama, Tronte and I are going to the cinema this evening to see <em>Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. </em>Can I have money for a ticket? Agnes has given Tronte the fare."</p><p>Still keeping her eyes locked on Agnes, Doris nodded. "Yes... of course. Just take the money out of my purse."</p><p>After that, Doris barely noticed Claudia and Tronte beginning to talk excitedly about the cinema and the film, nor when they tidied away their breakfast plates and left the room, because Agnes had a curious expression on her face. Hidden behind red lipstick and a glossy veneer, Doris could not quite read what it was.</p><p>"I hear you are going to dinner with Egon," Agnes said, her voice as sharp as steel.</p><p>Doris' blushed. "How did you know?"</p><p>"He told me."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Silence fell between them. They both knew that they could not become visibly jealous or possessive, as Doris was married to Egon and Agnes was another man's wife. Yet still, Doris could see the hurt in Agnes' eyes as the reality of what she had agreed to do sank in.</p><p>"It doesn't mean anything," whispered Doris, so quietly that she was surprised Agnes could hear her. "I'm only doing what is expected of me."</p><p>Agnes let out a bitter laugh and raised one of her perfect eyebrows. Doris could not help but admire how wonderfully put together she always was. "And what is that, mmm? Dinner and flowers? Or will you be the dutiful little wife and spread your legs for your husband when you get home?"</p><p>"Agnes!" hissed Doris, outraged. "You know I can't do anything else! Egon is my husband and you are just my..."</p><p>"What?" snapped Agnes, her expression sharp. "What am I to you, Doris? A secret? Something you are ashamed of? Because I am not ashamed."</p><p>If they were a man and a woman, and it was not 1954, Doris might have been able to find the words to give their relationship a name, but here and now that was impossible.</p><p>She lowered her eyes and looked at her hands. "You are my friend, Agnes. My friend... and even if we both know that we are more than that, you cannot expect me to say it out loud. Not here."</p><p>Agnes answered that with a silence that was so cold Doris thought the seasons had changed. Unable to look up, Doris kept fiddling with her hands as she heard Agnes' chair scrape the floor as she stood up. She could not even bring herself to lift her gaze even when Agnes was towering over her, just as she always was when they were in bed together.</p><p>"Then maybe we need to go someplace else," mused Agnes.</p><p>Doris looked up, shocked. "You are asking me to leave Winden? But I can't! I have a daughter, I have..."</p><p>"I am not asking you anything for now," replied Agnes, smiling at her with something approaching affection. "I just need time to think... to get a few things in order. I'll be back in a few days."</p><p>Doris' eyes went wide. "You are leaving? Where are you going?"</p><p>To settle her, Agnes lifted one of her gracefully manicured hands and stroked Doris' cheek lovingly. Touch starved for so long, Doris could not help but lean into the gentle brush of her fingers.</p><p>"I won't be long," she said, dropping her hand. "And don't worry about me, my love. I will be back before you know it."</p><p>Consoled by Agnes' promise of her imminent return, Doris managed to spend her day relatively normally. She went shopping for groceries, did the ironing when she got home, and even managed to stitch a few labels into Claudia's clothes, all without thinking about Agnes and how warm she was when they laid side by side in Doris' marital bed. Thoughts of Agnes gave her the strength to go out with Egon, accept his flowers, and play the little wife. The restaurant down by the lake was beautiful, sunlit, and romantic, and the food was good. Egon spared no expense on the drinks.</p><p>Unfortunately, there was always a price to be paid for such sweetness. Doris had to go home with Egon, to the bed she had last shared with Agnes, and perform her wifely duties without complaint. Egon was not cruel or unkind, but he was not what his wife wanted, and sometimes she thought she smelt another woman's perfume on his shirts.</p><p>So as he used her body for his pleasure, Doris thought of Agnes.</p><p>She thought of Agnes that night after Egon fell asleep.</p><p>She thought of Agnes the following morning when she had not returned home, and the day after that too.</p><p>She thought of Agnes when Tronte started asking questions about where his mother had gone.</p><p>She thought of Agnes when the police did a half-hearted investigation.</p><p>She thought of Agnes when it was clear she was not coming back.</p><p>She thought of Agnes. She thought of Agnes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!</p><p> </p><p>If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. On Loneliness (Martha/Bartosz)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the time after Jonas leaves for "France", Bartosz longs for Martha...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for coming back for this chapter! By the end of S1, I kinda had some questions as to how Bartosz and Martha got together before the series started. This is a little exploration of that detail!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bartosz' parents had gone away for the weekend to an expensive resort in Zell am See, leaving him with the house and a taste of an independent, adult life.</p><p>"No parties!" his mother had said, before planting a kiss on his forehead.</p><p>Bartosz squirmed away. "No parties, I promise."</p><p>"Good," interjected his father. "See you on Sunday night."</p><p>Of course, Bartosz was lying. The second their car had disappeared around the corner, leaving him the king of his castle, he had got his phone out his pocket and messaged Magnus at once, wanting to check the guest list was in place.</p><p><em>Bartosz:      </em>You coming tonight?</p><p><em>Magnus:      </em>Sure.</p><p>He didn't know how to say it without sounding weird, so Bartosz just thought the best way forward was being blunt about it.</p><p><em>Bartosz:       </em>Is Martha coming?</p><p><em>Magnus:      </em>idk I haven't seen her all day. Ask her.</p><p>Bartosz swallowed heavily. He did not know how to move around Martha, especially since Jonas had left. It was as if she shrouded herself in a veil while drawing an invisible line in the sand between herself and everyone else, clutching her St Christopher medallion like it was a rosary. Bartosz could tell that she was sad about Jonas leaving, but did not know how to make it better...</p><p>And he <em>so</em> wanted to make it better.</p><p><em>Bartosz:      </em>Hey Martha, are you coming to mine tonight? It all kicks off a 9. It would be great to see you.</p><p>"Great to see you," muttered Bartosz the second after he sent the message. "What am I? Forty?"</p><p>Martha took some time to reply, and when she did it was not particularly effusive.</p><p><em>Bartosz:      </em>K. See you there.</p><p>Bartosz' heart leapt in his chest. For his whole life, he had always been a rich kid living in a castle on a hill in comparison to his peers, whose parents were by and large in the employ of Aleksander Tiedemann and the Winden Powerplant. It had always made it difficult to fit in, even now the whole group were on the cusp of adulthood. Martha in particular had always been hard to draw close to. Distant and pretty, whenever Bartosz had reached out she had always proved insubstantial, like a will-o-the-wisp on a dark night.</p><p>Yet now, he had a chance, and he wasn't going to blow it.</p><p>Hours later the party was in full swing, but Bartosz still had not summoned up the courage to approach Martha. She had spent the whole night hanging around with Magnus and Kilian Obendorf, drinking and laughing so loud that Bartosz could hear it from the garden. He knew her well enough to recognise it was a false laugh, built of a need to appear she was having fun.</p><p>Maybe she felt just as uncomfortable as he did. Maybe he should find out.</p><p>At around midnight, after several shots for Dutch Courage, Bartosz finally managed to corner Martha. She was standing in the conservatory gazing up at the photos of Bartosz with his parents. Her eyes seemed to shine in the dim light of the room, which was only illuminated by fairy lights he had spent the afternoon putting up.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" he asked hoarsely, coming to stand beside her.</p><p>She turned to look at him, and it was only then he noticed that her eyes were bright because they were filled with emotion.</p><p>"Just thinking," she said, non-committally. "I grew up with two brothers, with my grandparents always round my house, and friends... yet you've always been alone. How did you cope?"</p><p>"I wasn't alone," said Bartosz quickly, needing to paper over the cracks. He did not want Martha thinking he was some kind of loner. "I had my parents, I had friends..."</p><p><em>Friends </em>was perhaps a little bit of an over-exaggeration. His whole life, only Jonas had truly been his friend. Magnus had come along as part of that deal, and then Martha after that. Yet, even so, he did not want her to spot that invisible mark that had always been on his skin, marking him out a different. He wanted her to <em>like</em> him, and that would be impossible if she viewed herself as within and him as without.</p><p>Martha smiled at him sadly. "But you've always been different, Bartosz. Always able to exist on your own."</p><p>Bartosz' shoulders sagged disappointedly.</p><p>"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his chest suddenly feeling incredibly empty.</p><p>Martha's eyes widened in surprise, before she reached out and grabbed his hand in something that resembled concern. Bartosz' skin caught aflame at her touch. "Oh, please don't take that as an insult. I've probably drunk too much and I am being too truthful. It's just... I miss Jonas, and you always seem so at ease with being on your own. I just wondered how you did it."</p><p>"By imagining I am not on my own," replied Bartosz quickly, squeezing her fingers to show her that he did not want her to leave him. At that intimate gesture, their gazes latched onto one another, which enabled them to grow incrementally closer. His heart started dancing in his chest.</p><p>"Do you miss Jonas too?" she asked, her face pale.</p><p>Bartosz nodded, before arming himself with a familiar lie. "Yes, but it is good for him to be in France, to take some time out after everything has happened..."</p><p>"Everything that has happened," said Martha sadly, going to look back at the pictures, "it includes leaving me."</p><p>Bartosz caught her chin with his free hand to stop her turning away from him, to stop her leaving <em>him. </em>Martha froze for a moment, but then relaxed, allowing him to extend their intimacy. Moving his fingers from the chin, Bartosz cupped her cheek with his hand. She was beautiful, like the painting of an angel in a church. Her eyes were so very bright.</p><p>"I won't leave you," he said firmly. "We don't have to be alone without him, without Jonas. We can be together."</p><p>For the first time since he had entered the room, Martha smiled, and it was so pure and full of genuine appreciation that Bartosz was not surprised when she leaned in and kissed him. Shaping his lips against hers, Bartosz gave into the feelings and the closeness that he had desired for so long. As he slipped his tongue between her teeth, Bartosz focused on Martha's pleasure, not on Jonas' ghost who was watching from the corner of the room.</p><p>The kiss was so wonderful, that he did not quite realise he was exchanging one kind of loneliness for another.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know people want a Bartosz/Silja one-shot (and I promise it is coming), but this little loose end just suddenly jumped out at me! Let me know what you think with a comment or kudo.</p><p>If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fathers and Sons (Noah & Bartosz)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After Bartosz flees the family home, Noah has to reckon with the man who his father was and the man he will soon be...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Thanks for coming back for this one-shot. This is focussed on Noah and Bartosz, their relationship, and the key scenes I think the show missed out for us. The song Silja sings at the beginning is a genuine German nursery rhyme, and this fic also contains translated dialogue from Episode 1 of Series 2 of "Dark".</p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Given how little he remembered of his mother, it always surprised Noah that one of his earliest memories was of her running her fingers through his hair while she sang to him. She had a voice like a nightingale.</p><p>
  <em>"Green, green, green's the colour of my garment,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Green, green, green my only wear shall be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you have me tell you why I love it dearly,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My true love a gamekeeper is he."</em>
</p><p>Other than that early recollection, he could only remember the sound of her laugh, and the soft scent of the perfume she used to wear. Everything else was a ghost of a memory, a memory of a ghost, and Noah could recall his father's grief more clearly than his own.</p><p>"Hanno, where is Papa?" Agnes had asked one cold midnight when their father was absent, and the house was dark. "It's late... shouldn't he come home?"</p><p>Hanno had climbed into bed beside her, pulling the cover up so it tucked under both of their chins. It clearly comforted Agnes, as she rested her head against his shoulder. "He'll be back soon," said Hanno reassuringly, grasping his sister's hand beneath the blankets. "You know sometimes he just has to clear his head and it is easier to do in the dark."</p><p>He knew it wasn't true, but his sister needed sweet lies.</p><p>In the early hours, Frau Jung had appeared outside their house, holding up Noah's father as he slumped against her, his whole body slack because of the drink. Hanno ran his fingers over his sister's forehead, whispering <em>sleep, </em>before going downstairs to let them in.</p><p>The second the door opened, his father had been upon him.</p><p>"Where's Silja?" he asked, his voice broken and his breath stinking of alcohol. "Silja... have you seen Silja?"</p><p>Erna shook her head. "Bartosz, you know Silja isn't here..."</p><p>Hanno knew there was no point in laying out the truth so obviously, so he reached out and took his father hand, as if he were someone who needed protecting, as delicate as a small bird. "Come, Papa. You should sleep."</p><p>"Sleep," his father had mumbled. "Sleep..."</p><p>After a heavy drinking bout, Hanno's father would sleep like a peasant. There was no rousing him - not for food or water - but Hanno worried about him so he would just watch him through the door, which stood lazily ajar. His father would be naked, lying on his back like a beached whale, his tattoo a spider's web on his chest. It made a strangely picturesque sight.</p><p>As his father snored, Hanno's questions grew, and the next day he could not resist asking them.</p><p>"Adam?"</p><p>"Yes, child?"</p><p>"Why does my Papa have a tattoo on his chest?"</p><p>If Adam smiled, Hanno did not know, as his face was disfigured and distorted. He rested his burned hand on Hanno's shoulder. "It is a map, a guide, a chart of the stars," Adam said, looking out of the window at the town. Hanno kept his eyes on him, scrutinising every subtle inflection of his expression. "It guides the viewer on how to make something out of nothing... to journey to paradise."</p><p>Hanno's eyes went wide, sucking in all the light. "Paradise? Is that where Mama is?"</p><p>"Yes," replied Adam slowly, his eyes still on the people outside, flitting past the window without realising they were being observed. "Your Mama is there, as is everyone you have ever loved or ever will love. They are there for you, waiting, in a place that is free of all pain and suffering. One day, you will learn how to sail there, Little Hanno. I promise."</p><p>Hanno wanted to ask if his father was there, too, but it soon became apparent to him that his father wasn't in heaven, but in hell. He drank too much, even when Magnus and Franziska begged him to come to the factory, and then he told them to fuck off for good measure. He barely went out, so most of the time stayed in their house and drank and ate and drank and ate. During the nights, he spoke in his sleep, calling out for Silja and Martha. While Hanno did not know who the latter was, he could not bring himself to tell his father that Silja was dead.</p><p>Hanno's reluctance changed to fear sometime after their father drank too much and punched the beautiful, ornate mirror that hung in their lounge. Tears rolled down his father's cheeks as Hanno bandaged his hands, careful and considerate.</p><p>"I'm sorry," his father sobbed, his face red and bloody. "It's all just so much. So, <em>so</em> much."</p><p>Hanno had promised his Papa that everything could be alright, that they could make themselves happy here, even though Mama was gone. The two of them and Agnes could be a little family, if only they tried. His father had smiled and wiped his bloody hand on Hanno's cheek. It seemed like a pact had been signed. Therefore, Noah had to admit he had been bewildered and a little lost when he woke up in the morning to find his father gone, the front door ajar.</p><p>"Frau Jung has a spare room that you and Agnes can share... until Bartosz can be found," Adam had said calmly, while Hanno sat in the empty lounge with his arms round his sister. She just cried into his shoulder.</p><p>Hanno tried to keep his voice steady, but it was difficult when he could feel Agnes' tears dampening his shirt. "But where has Papa gone? He cut himself last night... he was hurt... he..."</p><p>"He has fallen, Hanno," said Adam distantly, his face contorted into something that could have been a smile or a grimace. "Some are not made for grace. Do you remember what I said to you about paradise?"</p><p>He remembered every word. "Paradise is a place without pain and suffering, and my Mama is there."</p><p>"Yes," said Adam, clearly pleased that Hanno could recall it with such detail. "It is a wonderful place, but in order to journey there you must let go of everything that has ever rooted you in this world."</p><p>Hanno furrowed his brow. "What does that mean?"</p><p>"Anger, hatred, sadness, loathing, and love must all be let go of in favour of that higher calling, knowing that we can only join in true communion once we stop clinging onto this fragile, gossamer thread we call life."</p><p>"Does that mean my Papa is in paradise?" asked Agnes suddenly, her eyes filled with a hope that Hanno could not muster in himself.</p><p>Adam shook his head. "No, Little Agnes. I am sorry... but he is not. Bartosz could never let go of his pain. It weighed too much on his soul."</p><p>At once, Agnes' hope was extinguished, as if someone had blown out a candle, making her cry harder against Hanno's shoulder. Evidently wanting to cheer her up, Adam tried again. "You still have that chance, though, to go to paradise; to be free of pain and suffering, and to be with your mother again. Would you like that?"</p><p>Hanno knew he would, so from that day on he devoted his every moment to make that dream possible. A life without pain seemed too perfect; a world where his mother would run her fingers through his hair again, where Agnes wouldn't cry all the time, and where he could live without the great black cloak that had been slung around his shoulders the day his father left.</p><p>"Very good Hanno," said Adam one day, when Hanno been particularly helpful to him in delivering messages to Magnus and Franziska. "Yet maybe you should not be called Hanno, but a new name more fitting of your talents."</p><p>"What should my name be?" asked Hanno, always the attentive acolyte to his teacher.</p><p>"Maybe you should be called Noah, as you will save us all from the flood."</p><p>Armed with his new name - like St Michael with his sword - Noah tried to build paradise, throwing away every bad thought he had ever had. He tried to not be sad because his mother died, angry that his father had left, or resentful of his sister and her never-ending dependence on him. On the outside, Noah pretended to be free of such human weaknesses, but in truth he buried his troubles bone deep, so lost in the depths of his devotion that he could hardly feel them himself.</p><p><em>I will go to paradise, </em>he told himself. <em>And I will be reunited with my mother again. All this pain will be forgotten.</em></p><p>Noah told himself such stories so many times that, years later, when his father returned to the fold - sober and contrite - he had barely shown his shock on his face when he had walked through the door.</p><p>"Are you coming back for good?" Adam asked, as if the answer to the question did not have any significance at all. "Have you finally let go of your pain? Have you finally forgotten Silja?"</p><p>Noah's father blinked then swallowed. He could not tell what it meant. "Yes, I have let go, Jonas, I..."</p><p>"Adam."</p><p>"I have forgotten, <em>Adam</em>," Noah's father corrected himself quickly. "And I am ready to return home now, to be a traveller again."</p><p>Adam had forgiven him, of course, as only a god could forgive, and Noah's father came back into the fold on his hands and knees. Yet Noah could not call him Papa anymore, just as he could not call him Hanno. Instead, their entire relationship was filled with distrust and fear that destroyed the need for familiar names. Although his father may have forgotten, Noah could still see his blood red hands on the night he had punched the mirror, and the truth of it burned into his soul.</p><p>"You will take Bartosz and dig a tunnel in the caves according to these specifications," said Adam, handing a map to Noah of the Winder Caves. For some reason, it reminded him of his father's tattoo. "But watch him. I do not trust him, or why he is back. I believe he has lost his faith and... you know what that means. If you have to, you will do what is necessary, won't you? You will stop the flood?"</p><p>Every muscle in Noah's body seemed to be alive with tension. "Yes, I will."</p><p>"Good," replied Adam, putting his hand on Noah's shoulder. It almost felt like a blessing. "Because you must let go of your pain and fear too, otherwise you will never be strong enough to reach paradise."</p><p>Noah found it difficult to work with his father, as it brought back too many bad memories - the drinking, his mother's death, Agnes' tears - but he tried to channel all that suffering into the back breaking work of digging out the tunnel in the cave. Physical pain was better than emotional pain, after all, and Noah needed somewhere to direct the utter rage and sadness of having his father so close but silent.</p><p><em>Paradise, </em>he chanted to himself. <em>Paradise. Paradise. Paradise.</em></p><p>After they finished their work, they discarded their pickaxes outside, while Bartosz dabbed his face with his discarded shirt. He seemed so different from that sad drunk he had once been - now detached, tired, and almost depressed - that Noah could no longer resist inquiring about the change.</p><p>"You no longer believe the prophecy?"</p><p>Bartosz turned around, giving Noah a look at the tattoo stretched across his skin. Where once it had seemed an incredible thing to Noah, now it just seemed to be painted lies peddled by a heretic.</p><p>"I believe in the irony of fate," replied Bartosz, with a steely eyed surety that made Noah believe that he was telling him the truth.</p><p>As his father turned away to put on his shirt, Noah tried to press further. Pulling his own shirt over his head, he declared, "Adam says that all things must happen as they've always happened. We have to bear the cross, no matter how heavy it seems. In six days paradise begins and hell on earth will end."</p><p>"Sometimes I wonder," began his father, still not looking at him, "if paradise and hell are not one and the same thing."</p><p>It was as if something broke inside Noah. Paradise was a place without pain and suffering, an ideal world where his family could be together again without fear or death. How could his father ever argue that this fiery hell they found themselves in was the same as the beyond?"</p><p>"Adam was right," said Noah levelly, trying to keep his emotions level. "You've lost faith."</p><p>When his father turned around, he did not look angry, or scared, or unhappy, but simply resigned. "Is that why he sent you?" asked Bartosz, while Noah tried and failed to suppress his tears. "I've waited a long time for this moment. It's interesting that it's you. I hope that the day comes when you don't believe everything Adam tells you. Ask him why he took you in and why he called you Noah."</p><p>Yet Noah could not ask such questions - paradise called - so he picked up his axe and did what he had to do. The blunt edge ripped through the sinew of muscle and viscera in his father's shoulder so easily that, for a moment, Noah thought this violent scene was not real but a nightmare. He could dream that his hands were not covered in blood if only he could rise. In order to wake up, Noah struck his father again while he was lying on the floor, prostrate and injured.</p><p>Unfortunately, there was no waking up. This was hell, and his father was dead.</p><p><em>Paradise, </em>Noah thought as he slumped to the ground beside his father's body, which almost looked peaceful in spite of the pool of blood. His tears almost choked him. <em>Paradise. Paradise. Paradise...</em></p><p>"Is it done?" asked Adam much later, when the body had been disposed of in the woods.</p><p>"Yes," replied Noah emotionlessly. "It is done."</p><p>
  <em>It is over.</em>
</p><p>That night as he laid awake, staring up the ceiling, Noah told himself it wasn't rage, despair, betrayal, or anger that caused him to sink his pickaxe into his father's shoulder.</p><p>No. He told himself it was God.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you thought of this story in a comment! I write for fun, publish for feedback!</p><p>If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Blooming Flower (Aleksander/Regina)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aleksander mulls on whether to tell Regina the truth about his past...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to write some Aleksander/Regina for a while, because I think they are amongst the most pure and beautiful relationships in Dark. This is only short, but I hope you enjoy...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was easy to promise Regina things - happiness, safety, comfort - because of the way she looked at him with those sad eyes of hers, asking for his protection without words. Boris - no, <em>Aleksander</em> - was more than happy to give it to her, because in the giving he also received; her shy smiles, her gentle but nervous touches, her tentatively heated gaze.</p><p>It was love, something he had never had before.</p><p>He was her first kiss and he told her she was his too, because none of the other girls had mattered. He wanted all his firsts with her, because Regina gave Boris - no, <em>Aleksander </em>- a new perspective on life. She had been so sad when she met him but, through a careful study of his heart and character, found a goodness in him that made her happy. Whatever she saw in him had been missed by others before, so he was immensely thankful that she had found it. The son of an abandoning father and a single mother who had never loved him, Boris - no, Aleksander - had never felt capable of making another person happy before, so loved Regina unconditionally. She lit a candle in his heart that he knew he would never be able to extinguish.</p><p>Boris - no, <em>Aleksander</em> - still thought of the man he had killed sometimes. He could remember the thick, tangy smell of the blood that covered his hands, and the urgent need to run, <em>run, </em>RUN. As he brushed Regina's hair behind her ear, held her hand in the cinema, or gave her pleasure with his fingers, he sometimes considered telling her about the man whose death had been all his fault. On the night of her nineteenth birthday, when she was drunk and happy and singing, he had been so close to telling her the truth about who he was that he had the words prepared in his head.</p><p>
  <em>She will still love me, won't she? Even after all the bad things I've done.</em>
</p><p>"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me," she murmured against his ear, as they danced in the moonlight.</p><p>He smiled. "I'm sure I'm not..."</p><p>"You are, Aleks," said Regina urgently, looking at her with her once sad eyes that were now filled with such joy that he could have written a sonnet about it. "You are the only person who has ever truly cared for me, because you are so good. I will love you forever for that."</p><p>Part of Boris - no, <em>Aleksander</em> - wanted to object, and tell her he was a horrible person who had murdered someone, but there was such light in her eyes that he found himself washed away by it.</p><p><em>I'll let her tell me I'm good, </em>he thought. <em>I so want to be good.</em></p><p>After kissing him, Regina looked up at the sky, filled with the moon and the stars above them. The heavens made some people philosophical, but it only made Boris - no, <em>Aleksander</em> - believe that his girlfriend, his Regina, could outshine them all.</p><p>"Marry me."</p><p>She turned to look at him, surprised. "What?"</p><p>"You heard me," he said again, his voice stronger. "Marry me. I know we're only young, but I know enough to realise that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, because I love-"</p><p>Regina kissed him, her hands in his hair, and Boris - no, <em>Aleksander</em> - melted into her.</p><p>
  <em>If I have to lie every day of my life to have her, it will be worth it. </em>
</p><p>When they broke apart, Regina gazed up at him with such love that he thought his heart would burst.</p><p>"Of course I'll marry you Aleks, because I love you too."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments and kudos.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. To Be Wanted (Egon/Hannah)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Although missing his wife, Egon finds himself drawn into an illicit affair...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This little slice of Egon/Hannah just came to me, so I hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts how all these things start; with a glance.</p><p>When Katharina had arrived at the police station, she seemed cool and confident, comfortable in her own skin. Egon had rarely found those traits attractive in women - his own wife was pale and delicate, someone who needed to be protected, after all - but in her it seemed irresistible. Katharina was everything Doris was not. She smoked as if it was going out of fashion, wore colours that seemed too bright for 1950s Winden, and spoke of political matters as if she had some prescient knowledge about things that were soon to come to pass.</p><p>"Adenauer is back in is he? They won't be able to keep him out."</p><p>"The Soviets will put a wall around East Berlin soon, mark my words."</p><p>"You are so small-minded, Egon. The Americans will have a man on the moon before too long."</p><p>After some foretelling, she would look at him with her big dark eyes that were challenging and soft at the same time, and Egon would melt into her arms. It was what Katharina had done the first day she had met him, when she had arrived looking for her missing husband. After the madman in the police cells proved not to be the man she sought, Egon had offered Katharina a cigarette. As their fingers brushed, they had shared that first glance, soft and palpable. They both knew what it meant.</p><p>That night, he took her for a drink at the hotel in the next town along, then they had booked a room and fucked until the early morning light had peeped through the curtains. Katharina had scratched at his back in her ecstasy and bitten his shoulder so hard she had almost drawn blood, but Egon had seen stars all the same. He had not had sex like it in a long time. The strength of his release meant he instantly fell asleep on top of her, but when he woke up a little while later Katharina was looking at him with her big dark eyes that simultaneously said <em>I'm lonely and friendless and need protection </em>and <em>if you hurt me I'll cut your balls off. </em>It made him want her all the more, so they were back at the hotel the following week. This time, she bites at his throat.</p><p>Every time he goes to visit Katharina, Egon knows he should feel guilty, but can hardly bring himself to. When he returns home late, Claudia looks at him with her mismatched eyes and he sees judgement there. For a moment, he thinks he will crack, but then he finds Doris. She is asleep in their bed, curled up in a ball. Before Katharina, Egon may have been tempted to wake her for the type of unexciting sex that only ever seems to happen between him and his wife while they are wearing their pyjamas. However, because he now has Katharina - or perhaps because he still smells of her - Egon does not wake Doris. He does not wish to sully her with his base desires, after all.</p><p>In the morning when they wake up, Doris does not ask where he has been. Instead, it is all <em>Agnes Agnes Agnes. </em>Where is she? Have the police been looking? Surely, they could devote more resources to the case, seeing as she had left her son motherless? Egon does not say it, but it makes him resentful. He missed the days with Doris when they were young and in love, and she had given him secret kisses and promises of <em>later, later. </em>Now, she will not even kiss him goodbye when he leaves for work.</p><p>It assuages his guilt when he goes to see Katharina. As Doris no longer shows him any affection at all, Egon eagerly takes it from his mistress. Starved, he lets her run her fingers through his hair, suck on his neck, give him oral sex, hold him down while she is on top, all the while moaning <em>yes, yes, yes</em> as she dominates him. It is nice to be wanted, even if does not replace the love he had with Doris. Instead, it is just sex; sex and bodies and a primal human need for closeness that he can no longer have with his wife, not since she became distant and preoccupied with their missing houseguest.</p><p>Egon had thought things could continue that way - playing at being Doris' husband while enacting his desires on Katharina - but things like that never truly last.</p><p>It ends how all these things end: with a declaration.</p><p>"I'm pregnant."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment or kudos.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Serpent (Claudia & Jonas)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the Garden of Eden, the snake had tempted Eve with an apple...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am so sorry this has been a while. My real life blew up for a bit, but now things are back on course.</p><p>This one was inspired by a prompt on tumblr from falafel14 who asked: </p><p>"Are you still accepting prompts for Dark one-shots? The character combination I'd love to see more of in fics is Claudia &amp; Jonas (platonic!) especially from that mysterious missing year they spent together between 2x6/2x7, but also any of their shared time post-apocalypse."</p><p>This turned out a little more Claudia heavy than Jonas heavy, but I hope you nevertheless enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the Garden of Eden, the snake had tempted Eve with an apple.</p><p>
  <em>Just one bite... only one bite... what is one moment of sweetness against a lifetime of duty? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just take one bite...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just once...</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Only once...</em>
</p><p>Claudia understood Eve's dilemma well. She had been young and in love once, and knew what it was like to hunger after <em>just one bite</em> of that which was forbidden.</p><p>Tronte had been forbidden.</p><p>When her father got drunk, he used to rail against the boy and his mother, saying they were both devil spawn or worse.</p><p>"It's all her fault," the man who used to be Egon Tiedemann would slur. "That bitch Agnes. If she hadn't come here... if she hadn't taken Doris... things would be better. Her and fucking Katharina... And I bet Tronte is the same. You must not go near him, Claudia. Do you understand me?"</p><p>"Yes, Papa," she replied meekly.</p><p>"I said, <em>do you understand me?"</em></p><p>"<em>Yes Papa," </em> she would repeat, over and over until she almost believed it herself.</p><p>Yet on that day in the woods, Claudia had learnt she was an atheist.</p><p>"Just one kiss," Tronte had whispered, his voice almost obscured by the hush of the wind. "Only one kiss. What is one moment of sweetness against a lifetime of duty?"</p><p>Claudia furrowed her brow. "What about Jana?"</p><p>"She doesn't need to know," he had insisted, brushing the curls out of Claudia's face with gentle fingers. "You know how it has always been between you and me, Claudia. We are perfect for one another. You know that, and so do I. "</p><p>"You are marrying Jana."</p><p>She often tried to pretend that didn't hurt.</p><p>"I know... I <em>know,</em>" Tronte had said, almost sounding sorry. "But it is <em>you </em>I want. <em>You </em>I love. So please, just one kiss. Just one. Let me say goodbye."</p><p>Claudia had obliged him, of course, because she always obliged him. When she was young, she had been so convinced that loving Tronte would be all she would ever know in relation to love, and that there was nothing worth living for outside him and his kiss, that it was almost a surprise when she discovered she was wrong.</p><p>
  <em>Just one kiss...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Only one...</em>
</p><p>After sharing that kiss with Tronte, she had felt as she and him were the only ones in the garden, the only ones in the sunlight, the only ones who could taste the sweetness of love, as if it were a ripe peach they had both bitten into and then let the juice run down their chins. Yet, when she considered it more in the years that followed, Claudia realised that other people also came to the garden and took forbidden fruit, thinking they were the only ones ever to feel that way.</p><p>Each pair of lovers was totally unique and totally the same.</p><p>Jonas loved Martha, as Adam had loved Eve and Claudia had loved Tronte. Everything Jonas did was for Martha; in opposition to her, reflecting her, in honour of her. He loved her so much that he tried to control time in order that he could be with her and without her all at once. Jonas thought their love a type of Manichean heresy - all black and white, ying and yang, and in total contravention to what was deemed proper - yet failed to see it for what it really was. His love, like everyone else's, was an echo of what came before.</p><p><em>He believes they are special, </em>thinks Claudia as she watches him in the darkness. <em>How sweet. </em><em>How sad.</em></p><p>Jonas and Noah are slaving away over the portal, certain that they can travel back and destroy the wormhole, like Alexander the Great cutting through the Gordian knot. She knows they will fail, but she is also aware that they <em>must </em>fail for everything to play out the way it should.</p><p>So she offers him the apple - Martha - over and over again, that one sweet oblivion that he hungers for, like she had once hungered for Tronte.</p><p>Every time he takes it.</p><p><em>What is one moment of sweetness against a lifetime of duty? </em>Claudia wonders, as she watches Adam chasing his Eve.</p><p>She thinks of Regina. She has her answer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I'd love to hear what you think!</p><p>If you would like to prompt me, please do so in my askbox on tumblr! I am <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Home (Peter/Benni)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One day, Peter stands outside Benni's caravan and considers going in...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, so this is a Peter/Benni chapter! It is going to be loosely paired with the next one (which is Peter/Charlotte). I hope you enjoy.</p><p>WARNING: There is a passing reference to suicide in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter sat in his car, tapping his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.</p><p><em>I shouldn't be doing this, </em>he thought, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. <em>I have a wife who loves me, and two daughters. I shouldn't be doing this.</em></p><p>In spite of what he was telling himself, Peter lifted his head to look out the window. The rain was torrential, so it almost obscured his view of the caravan. In fact, the only thing he could clearly see was the neon sign saying WELCOME in bold red letters that illuminated the window. In a strange way, it <em>did </em>make him feel welcome.</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this.</em>
</p><p>Yet another part of him thought he <em>should </em>be doing this. Charlotte was often too preoccupied with work to be truly demanding in the bedroom, but when she did expect him to perform - on anniversaries and birthdays - Peter's mind drifted to all those thoughts he had long suppressed: men, strong shoulders, strong lines, firm kisses, muscular arms wrapped around him.</p><p>Dicks.</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this.</em>
</p><p>He stepped out of the car into the rain. The previous weekend, Charlotte had tried to fix whatever their marriage had become by arranging a dinner down at the restaurant by the lake. She had dressed up nicely and even put some lipstick on, but then spent the whole evening talking about Ulrich and their latest case instead of anything that could feasibly be called romantic. If Charlotte had been harbouring any plans to jump him when they returned home, she did not put them into action, as Peter wasted so much time brushing his teeth that she was asleep by the time he entered their bedroom.</p><p>It was the relief that he had felt in that moment that had prompted Peter to stop pretending.</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this.</em>
</p><p>It wasn't just that he was betraying Charlotte, the wife who had given him two adorable girls. No, it also felt <em>professionally </em>wrong. A year ago, Benni had been referred to Peter's practice after a failed suicide attempt and, for a time, Peter had been his counsellor. They talked about Benni's desire to transition, to finally be his authentic self. <em>Her </em>authentic self. Feeling a little overwhelmed to fully be able to cope with Benni's needs, Peter had referred her to another therapist in a nearby town who was more familiar with gender dysmorphia. Peter did not know whether Benni had ever gone, but always wondered.</p><p><em>Where is Benni now? </em>he often thought as he sat down with Charlotte to watch another samey Scandi-noir drama. <em>I wonder how she is.</em></p><p>In fact, he had not been able to stop thinking about her; the lingering gazes at the therapy sessions, the longer than necessary handshakes, the way their fingers had brushed when they went to say goodbye.</p><p>As Peter mulled over those memories - close, near, and intimate - <em>I shouldn't be doing this </em>quickly morphed into <em>I should be doing this, </em>especially when he grew close enough to see there was a second light in the window. This one said LOVE.</p><p><em>And that is what everyone wants, isn't it? </em>he thought as he reached the door of the caravan. <em>To be loved. To feel at home in someone's arms.</em></p><p>He knocked on the door. During the seconds that followed, Peter could almost hear every grain of sand that trickled through the hourglass. He thought of Charlotte, his wife, who had given half her life to him. She even had the stretch marks to prove her service. His mind danced with images of his daughters, Franziska and Elisabeth, the girls he wanted to give a safe and happy life.</p><p><em>I shouldn't be doing this, </em>he thought once more, and went to turn away.</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't be doing this.</em>
</p><p>The caravan door opened. It was Benni.</p><p>She gazed at him confusedly.</p><p>"Peter?" she asked, her eyes bright. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"</p><p>The answer was surprisingly simple.</p><p>"You."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!</p><p>If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Away (Charlotte/Peter)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Charlotte waits for Peter to come home...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the Charlotte chapter in response to the previous Peter chapter. I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For once, Charlotte is glad the house is empty.</p><p>Elisabeth has gone for a sleepover at her friend Yasin's house, and Franziska is out god knows where. Normally, Charlotte would be worried about them, but right now she cannot bring herself to summon those motherly emotions. Instead, she is possessed by an intractable numbness extending from the top of her head to the base of her feet, making her feel less than real, as if she is not even truly here amongst the furniture and the family photos.</p><p><em>Peter is not coming home tonight, </em>she thinks.</p><p>Up until two days ago, Charlotte had believed she was content; not happy, but content. She believed her life was similar to all the other middle-class professionals in Winden who owned their own home and had 2.5 children and a dog. Normal. Comfortable. Safe. It was bourgeois and successful, and she had felt fairly fulfilled. Sex with Peter had not been frequent, it was true, but she had put that down to having reached the point in their relationship where it was more about companionship than passion.</p><p>She had been wrong, of course. It is quite clear now that Peter does not view their marriage as one of companionship and comfort, but as a cage. He sees it as a line of immovable bars, preventing him from being with the person he truly wanted.</p><p>Benni.</p><p>Charlotte wonders how it started. Had Peter gone to her caravan one night, in the rain and the wind, searching for something that Charlotte could not give him? Had there been longing, pining, an aching building passion that was hard to suppress? Or had it been all about the sex, the sex that Charlotte and Peter were no longer having, because they were responsible parents and homeowners who had bigger priorities?</p><p><em>We didn't even have passion at the start, </em>remembers Charlotte, recalling the careful way they had danced around each other. The first time they had kissed, Peter had kept his mouth closed, and when they had moved beyond kissing, he had asked her over and over again whether this was what she truly wanted. Maybe if she had known it would come to this, Charlotte would not have said <em>yes, </em>her tone dripping with want.</p><p>In fact, Charlotte no longer knows what she wants. Does she want Peter? Does she want her family? Does she want anything outside the certainty of a job that will always give her solutions? Does she want a man who loves someone else?</p><p>The door creaks and Charlotte realises she will have to find the answers to those questions very quickly.</p><p>Peter is home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think.</p><p>If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. To Be Needed (Katharina/Ulrich)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After spending the night with Hannah, Ulrich comes home to Katharina...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! Thanks for coming back and reading! This is an Ulrich/Katharina one-shot, and they are probably my favourite relationship in the series, so I hope I have done them justice. This is kinda meant to be read in conjuction with Chapter 7, "To Be Wanted", a Hannah/Egon one-shot, so I hope you enjoy the parallels.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ulrich had told Katharina that he would be working late, so there was nothing inherently suspicious about the fact he returned home just before midnight, shutting the door with a quiet <em>click </em>so as not to disturb anyone<em>.</em></p><p>"Stay for the witching hour," Hannah had suggested only twenty minutes before, after they had come down from their joint high in her bed. "The whole world turns upside down then. We can mean new things to one another."</p><p>Hannah always spoke in cryptic riddles, and Ulrich had not known what this one meant so had given her a weary smile. Her insatiable need for him had always felt a little too much. "I've got to go. I told Katharina I would be back at home, and I am needed..."</p><p>His words trailed off as Hannah flinched, reacting as that word - <em>home</em> - was delivered in relation to another woman and another woman's bed. Her dark eyes, big and beautiful, seemed to sparkle with something unsaid: <em>I could be your home, Ulrich. Me. </em>For a moment, he tried to imagine it. Could he find belonging, closeness, and the peace and contentment that characterised home with Katharina, with Hannah? In her house, in her bed, in her body? Gazing into her eyes, it did not take long for Ulrich to realise such thoughts were impossible, so he sat up and made to leave her. Hannah grabbed his wrist, holding him fast.</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>There was something frantic there - clinging and cloying - the tone of a hawker desperate to haggle. It repelled him.</p><p>Not knowing what to do, Ulrich had kissed her instead of using lying words.</p><p>When Ulrich arrived back at his house, he found the place near deserted. Mikkel was probably already in bed, while Magnus and Martha were likely out with friends. The only sign that anyone truly lived in this house was one of Martha's textbooks, casually left open on a neatly highlighted page on the kitchen table. As Ulrich picked up an apple from the fruit bowl, needing to taste something other than Hannah's kisses, Ulrich skim read a few pages. It did not take him long to realise it was a copy of <em>Hamlet </em>that Martha was learning in drama club.</p><p>
  <em>Horatio:      He waxes desperate with imagination.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Marcellus:   Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Horatio:      Have after. To what issue will this come?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Marcellus:   Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.</em>
</p><p>Ulrich laughed to himself. <em>Something is rotten in the state of Winden, </em>he thought, tracing the bold type face with his fingers. <em>Something has always been rotten here.</em></p><p>Yet Martha seemed to disagree. She had highlighted Marcellus' line in a deep red highlighter and made her own comment in the margins. Ulrich read it, intrigued.</p><p><em>Is something truly rotten in the state of Denmark? </em>his daughter had opined in her neat hand. <em>Or does the true corruption linger within Hamlet's soul?</em></p><p>Ulrich snapped the book shut. He did not want to read anymore.</p><p>After finishing his apple, Ulrich went upstairs to have a shower, wanting to wash away the stink of Hannah. She wore a very distinctive perfume and liked to grip him so tightly that Ulrich was sure she had left marks on him. He washed himself carefully, making sure to scrub every sign of her away. It was one thing to enact his desires on her, quite another to bring her home to his wife. Ghost like, Hannah haunted his skin.</p><p>Once showered, Ulrich changed dried himself off then went to his marital bed totally naked. Katharina was already tucked up under the duvet, her blonde hair splayed out on her pillow. In sleep, she gained a type of tranquillity that she had never possessed awake. Ever since Ulrich had known her, Katharina had always been wild and wilful, a keg of gunpowder ready to explode. That was what he had loved most about her when he was a teenager who wanted the whole world to burn. She had been scared of nothing, afraid of no one, and had never even needed him to act as her protector when she came to him with bruises on her face or on her heart. No matter how much Ulrich had wanted to wrap himself around her and tell her that she could rely on him, and that they did not need to be like their shitty parents - distant, abusive, or lost in grief - Katharina had never truly needed him, only wanted him. She wanted his kisses, she wanted his cock, she wanted him, but she had never once needed him; not as his friend, his lover, his wife, or as the mother of his children.</p><p>It drove Ulrich absolutely mad.</p><p>Needing to be near her, he climbed into bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. Katharina did not wake up, but she made a mumbling noise, acknowledging his presence. Lifting his hand, Ulrich smoothed a stray ringlet of hair out of her eyes and watched her in the darkness. His wife had never been beautiful, perhaps, not in the silky, delicate way Hannah was, but she had always been strong and resourceful, powered by a combustible engine of forward motion that sat at the very centre of herself. With Katharina, Ulrich had always felt as if he was standing outside waiting for a storm to approach, and the moment it did he would hold his arms wide and soak himself in the rain, just laughing at the sheer bliss of being lost to the power of nature.</p><p>"I love you," Ulrich mumbled into her hair, as he settled himself beside her.</p><p>Needing to be close, he wrapped himself more tightly around her. She did not stir. He hoped his arms were a comfort, or an armour to protect from the cruelties of the outside world. Yet even though Katharina seemed peaceful in sleep, Ulrich could not help but feel dread. However much he had always wanted and needed her, deep down Ulrich secretly feared that Katharina thought him a cage.</p><p>She had never truly needed him, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and a kudos, I love each and every one.</p><p>If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Haunting of Her House (Hannah/Michael)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hannah and Michael's lives are haunted by ghosts...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry, I just watched "The Haunting of Hill House", hence the title. I hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were to be married in a small ceremony with few people present. Hannah said it was because they wanted something <em>intimate, </em>but in truth it was because not that many people would attend. Michael only had his mother, who Hannah thought was a vindictive bitch, and she was an only child. They had friends, of course, but it wasn't enough. They still ended up arguing about the guest list.</p><p>"I want Ulrich and Katharina there," Michael had insisted, firmly.</p><p>"Why? You barely know them."</p><p>"I know them well enough," replied Michael. "And weren't you quite good friends with Katharina once?"</p><p>Hannah suppressed a snort. The relationship between her and Katharina could barely be described as a <em>friendship. </em>For as long as Hannah had known her, she had circled around Katharina, watching the way she did her hair and how she dressed, claws drawn. She would wonder what Ulrich saw in her; in that face that was more rough-hewn than delicate, in her manner that was more akin to a coiled spring than a delicate flower, and in the brittle, burning fury that always lurked behind her eyes.</p><p><em>Maybe it was the bruises,</em> thought Hannah. <em>Some men liked to play the hero.</em></p><p>"Katharina and I were never <em>friends. </em>Maybe Ulrich and I were... once, but not her. Never her."</p><p>To her surprise, Michael's expression softened into sadness, his eyes downcast. A gentler wife may have been moved.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Nothing."</p><p>"Liar. There is obviously something."</p><p>Michael shook his head in irritation. "I promise it is nothing. We will talk later when we both have clearer heads."</p><p>"No, we should talk <em>now</em>..."</p><p>"Later," he begged, putting his hands up in surrender. "Later."</p><p>As he always did, Michael retreated to his studio, his shoulders slumping as he turned away from her. Hannah sighed. It was sometimes impossible to talk to him when he was in this mood; his rough-hewn features became overcast, and his long limbs full of a coiled tension. She often wanted to comfort him, but what would she say? Hannah did not understand Michael's darkness, as he has never saw fit to tell her of its extent. Consequently, she did not have the words to soothe him.</p><p><em>Stupid man, </em>she thought.</p><p><em>Stupid men, </em>she added.</p><p>Although Michael had retreated from the argument - or the <em>discussion </em>as Hannah called it - that night they still went to bed together. As Hannah rode him, she brushed the hair out of his eyes, and tried not to see Ulrich's face where the shadows settled over Michael's features.</p><p><em>I love him, </em>she thought madly. <em>I love Michael, I love my husband, I love...</em></p><p>Yet it was Ulrich's fingers she had long imagined knotted in her hair when she opened her legs, and Ulrich's tongue in her mouth as they kissed. It was Ulrich inside her, and Ulrich whispering her name, Ulrich possessing her and taking her and splitting her soul and...</p><p>"Hannah," gasped Michael on the edge of orgasm. "Look at me."</p><p>She looked at him. He came. They fell asleep as husband and wife.</p><p>When she awoke the next morning, just after nine, she found Michael was gone. It was not unusual. Often, when the weather was cloudy, he liked to go for walks under the darkening sky and just think. Hannah did not know what about; she had never asked him, and he never volunteered the truth. After having her breakfast and showering, Michael had still not returned home, so Hannah decided to go into his studio. He was a good artist, and sometimes his art made the world seem brighter for a moment, as if he could meld the cracks in the universe by soldering them with silver and gold.</p><p>The light was bruised in there - grey, almost purple - but Hannah could still see his recent works. There were lots of drawings of the forests, of winding paths leading down to the caves, with snakes eating their own tales hidden in the grass. She made a mental note to ask Michael what that meant. Was it about her? Their marriage? The two--?</p><p>Something caught her eye. On a nearby table on the opposite side of the room, was a drawing of two people side-by-side. They were devoid of any colour bar the dark lines of charcoal that outlined their features; strong and statuesque, never weak. Yet, in spite of their monochrome majesty, there was no mistaking who they were. The two unsmiling charcoal faces belonged to Ulrich and Katharina, and Michael had clearly drawn them after he and Hannah had argued about the wedding.</p><p><em>Wherever I look, he is there, </em>thought Hannah, her heart beating rapidly as her fingers smudged Ulrich's face.</p><p>
  <em>Haunting me.</em>
  
</p><p>Given that Michael had left her with little choice, she burnt the charcoal drawing in the chimenea in the garden just before he got home, and delighted when the flames ate Katharina's face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I have decided that I am going to round out this series of little one shots at 21 (3x7=21, so it kinda felt like it had some significance). If there are any couples or relationships that I haven't done yet that you would like to see, let me know. I have some ideas, but the path is not nearly comprehensively set out.</p><p>If you want to prompt me for any stories, or ask for more of a story I have already published, please pop it in my askbox on tumblr at <a href="https://seethemflying.tumblr.com/ask">seethemflying</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Waiting at the Window (Jana/Tronte)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Feeling tired and betrayed, Jana waits for him to come home...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! I am so sorry this has been a while. Life has been like an avalanche recently.</p><p>Nevertheless, here is a new chapter. It is a little slice of Tronte/Jana. I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She knows that Tronte thinks her foolish - the type of woman that is too tied up in her domestic world with her sons and her house and her AGA to open her eyes - but Jana is not stupid. She sees the way he quietly puts on his cufflinks and sprays himself with cologne before "visiting friends", and how he has started working longer and longer hours. There is a difference between stupidity and silence.</p><p>"I won't be back late. Me and the guys are just going for a drink."</p><p>"But you haven't eaten your dinner..."</p><p>"I'll grab a snack when I'm out."</p><p>The door slams shut behind him, reverberating.</p><p>When Tronte goes out, Jana distracts herself with the children. Sure, Ulrich is always out - she suspects he has something going on with the Albers girl - but Mads is always there, obliging. They watch TV together and he shows her his action figures, and for a few short hours it is as if everything is alright in the world. Mads loves his Mama, and she loves him. Does Jana need anything else?</p><p>Then Tronte comes home, reeking of another woman's perfume.</p><p>It had bothered her less when there was more than one. Then, Jana had been able to console herself with the thought that he is just slaking a thirst that she can't quench because she is too busy with the house, the bills, and the kids. Although there are others, they only know the touch of Tronte's skin, his weight on top of them, the feel of him inside.</p><p>Only his wife had ever known his love.</p><p>Only Jana.</p><p>Yet now there is another, a singular other. As Jana distracts herself with Mads' childish games, a traitorous part of her mind starts to put the pieces together. That perfume is expensive - <em>Chanel No. 5</em> - so Tronte's mistress can't be some poor housewife scrabbling to keep her home together. When he leaves the house, she follows him with her eyes sometimes, noting the way he dresses. It is as if he is going to see someone important; a woman who likes fine suits and polished shoes. There is no particular clue that points to the woman being Claudia Tiedemann, but for some reason Jana just knows. She waits by the window for Tronte to come back, wondering what is so special about <em>her </em>that he has rendered his love life into a binary. Whereas before it had been his wife against a crowd of teeming, faceless one night stands, now Jana has an enemy.</p><p>Wife vs. Mistress.</p><p>That opposition becomes even more pronounced when Mads goes missing. Mads loves his Mama, and she can't find him. Tronte is out with Claudia - in his smart suit, smelling of her perfume - instead of at home with his wife splitting the grief between them.</p><p>She wishes the pain was binary, some for him and some for her.</p><p>Jana can't do this alone.</p><p>Yet she waits for Mads at the window, just as she had once waited for his father.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I'd love to hear what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. No Future (Adam & Magnus)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Magnus tries to persuade Franziska of the merits of freedom...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahh god, it has been ages since I updated... but here goes!</p><p>This was prompted by the lovely bubulona, who asked for something exploring Magnus and Adam's relationship. I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is easy to forget that Adam is Jonas, sometimes.</p><p>When Magnus looks at Adam, he just sees the scars that disfigure his face, blotting out the features that had once belonged to his childhood friend. He sees the unsmiling expression - tense and taut as a bowstring - and feels uneasy. Jonas has never been one for jokes, but when he was young, he had at least grinned, at least signalled to the world that he was happy.</p><p>Yet how can a man be happy when he was stuck in this eternal game of chess, his actions merely feints, decoys, and blockades against an unseen enemy? There is no free will, only strategy. Only strategy and death.</p><p>If Magnus could have his own way, he would go far away and take Franziska with him. Sure, they couldn't get back to the twenty-first century, but maybe they could leave Winden, move across the year if not across time</p><p>"We could go anywhere we want," says Magnus to Franziska, one night when they are in bed together. It is 1907, so they subsist on gaslight. "We don't have to stay in Winden. The whole world could be ours. We wouldn't even have to stay in Germany; I was reading in the paper that there are ships going out of Hamburg straight to New York. I could get a job in America, I know I could, and New York would surely be a more interesting life for you that here..."</p><p>"No," says Franziska. "We can't."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"Because we need to get back to our time. I told you. I will never be free here."</p><p>"You only won't be free here because you choose to stay with Adam." It sounds more resentful out of his mouth than in his head, but once he has said it, Magnus cannot take it back. He pushes ahead. "You believe everything that he tells you; that everything in your life is pre-set and fixed, that we all have to be slaves to our destinies in order to get back to our time. But isn't accepting your destiny and doing what Adam tells you the opposite of being free?"</p><p>Franziska rolls over to look at him, her expression strangely intense.</p><p>"And you think getting on a boat to New York would make us free?"</p><p>"Perhaps not," says Magnus, "but at least we wouldn't be Adam's puppets, doing everything he says even if it is wrong... even if it involves Martha..."</p><p>"Let's not talk of Martha," says Franziska suddenly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Magnus' lips. "Let's not talk of Adam either. Let's just—"</p><p>"But we <em>should </em>talk of these things. If we were just able to discuss things, we might be able to find a way for <em>our </em>future to truly be in our hands, out of Adam's entirely..."</p><p>Franziska's eyes flash dangerously. "Our future? What do you mean?"</p><p>Given that Franziska still vaguely terrifies Magnus, even now, he does not say the words, but instead holds her hand. Her expression softens.</p><p>"Bartosz and Silja have a future. Why can't we?"</p><p>Sometimes, Magnus allows himself to dream. He dreams of children and a life with Franziska that is consists of something other than serving Adam's every whim, of not being his sword and shield. Sometimes, it is not Adam and Eve or Jonas and Martha that stand in the Garden of Eden, but he and Franziska, naked and free and glowing in the light.</p><p>All Franziska has to do is take a bite of the apple.</p><p>Yet before she can, Franziska pulls her hand away from his, a storm passing across her face. His blood chills.</p><p>"Sometimes, I don't think you know me at all," she snaps.</p><p>And before Magnus can say another word, Franziska rolls over and pretends at sleep. It is her destiny, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! If you have the time, please let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>